After the three days of marriage, I realised that if I lay on my back with my skirt lifted to my waist and legs apart, the pain would be less. The pain that Nandani always described as pleasure, which I could never relate to. He would come, lie on top of me with his face in the crook of my neck, and start doing what all husbands were supposed to do.
He often told me that, as a wife, I should keep my husband happy.
And it went on.
Days turned into weeks, and my body got used to it while my expectations died. I was never told I was beautiful, intelligent, or worth something.
And when I held Princess in my hand, a thought crossed my mind: if a girl is to enter this life, she must choose her parents wisely.
Sometimes, he would yell at me. He’d ask me to make sounds for him and smile or react to reassure him he was doing well.
However, he was unaware that if our soul is wounded, we cannot fake it.
And I couldn’t either. Tears streamed down my face, and after three months or ninety-two nights without a break, he finally grew tired of me. My stomach ached, and when I could no longer bear it, when my face lost its rosy hue, my berry-like lips dried, my eyes went hopeless, and I seemed lifeless, he finally left me.
No! Not for my benefit, but for his. He deserved better. He deserved someone who could smile, make sounds for him, and keep him happy.
Clearly, I couldn’t do it.
Over the past seven years, I had forgotten or moved on from every bit until today, when I realised I had a husband again, not really a husband! But a husband—a half-husband, though.
But I couldn’t deny that he had some kind of claim over me.
The pace and intensity of our interactions changed from before the incident to after, and I was afraid my heart was misinterpreting everything.
I didn’t know how to tell my heart that he was a prince and I was just a maid. Our backgrounds and castes were different, our clans were different, and we were different. He was my saviour, and my heart—oh, my foolish heart—kept falling for his teasing words.
I didn’t realise it until Ranaji rewarded my hard work and dedication with that necklace. It wasn’t the first time he had given me something expensive. He trusted me and always seemed happy with my work.
He had given me gifts on Diwali, Holi, his crowning ceremony, Prince Ranvijay’s wedding, and several other occasions. I always loved receiving appreciation gifts, but this time it hit me harder.
It made me think of the distance between us, particularly the space between Kunwar Agastya and me. I had to hold back any emotions that would’ve arisen in my heart to avoid being hurt by them.
I exhaled deeply and crawled under my comforter, accepting his kindness and flirting in another direction. He was just toying with our situation. He had always been that way—nonchalant, lighthearted, joyful, and never serious.
But I wasn’t so foolish. Had I really been so desperate for the last seven years? A man would flirt with me, and I would fall for it.
Urgh.
Focus. Suman. Focus.
My sleep was chaotic for some time, and I was restless. I had never experienced that before.
?????
I couldn’t recall anything from my dreams, but I realised I hadn’t truly slept when I woke up.
My head felt heavy; I tried to get out of bed to bathe. After my bath, I went straight to Nandani’s chamber, only to find that the trio, who were just two in count before the day, were sleeping peacefully: Ranaji, Rani-sa, and their little princess.
I began my daily chores by cleaning the chamber and guiding the attendants and maids in the tasks they needed to complete. It wasn’t difficult because, over time, I understood what needed to be done, and these attendants shared that awareness; I only needed to supervise them closely.
Reva ran toward me, her beautiful smile conveying the message,“King Abhinandan has arrived from Mahabaleshgarh.”
I smiled, filled with joy and anxiety about the challenging moment ahead.
Three years ago, King Rajvardhan’s declining health led to the passing of the crown to King Abhinandan. However, something unexpected occurred, and King Rajvardhan did not survive. Mahabaleshgarh was still struggling to cope with that loss.
But he was in a better place now. If anyone had seen him in his last days, suffering and gasping for each breath, they would’ve understood that sometimes it’s easier to give up.
